- -
- 100%
- +
Someone wants to see her silenced.
An Emergency Responders story
Back home after a mission trip, nurse and EMT Sara Southerland learns that her cousin’s death might not have been an accident—and now someone wants her dead. The only person she can trust is longtime crush and fire captain Adam Kane. With a stalker on their tail, Adam will do whatever it takes to protect the woman he’s realizing he can’t live without.
VALERIE HANSEN was thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life and turned to Jesus. She now lives in a renovated farmhouse in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark Mountains of Arkansas and is privileged to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart for Love Inspired. Life doesn’t get much better than that!
Also By Valerie Hansen
Emergency Responders
Fatal Threat
Military K-9 Unit
Bound by Duty
Military K-9 Unit Christmas
“Christmas Escape”
Classified K-9 Unit
Special Agent
The Defenders
Nightwatch
Threat of Darkness
Standing Guard
A Trace of Memory
Small Town Justice
Dangerous Legacy
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk
Fatal Threat
Valerie Hansen
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-09489-4
FATAL THREAT
© 2019 Valerie Whisenand
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Version: 2020-03-02
Before you start reading, why not sign up?
Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!
SIGN ME UP!
Or simply visit
signup.millsandboon.co.uk
Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.
“When did you notice this damage?” Adam asked.
“What damage? What are you talking about?”
Grasping Sara’s shoulders, he turned her in place, still keeping them within the shelter of the broad trunk. “This. See the hole?”
“We have worse things to worry about than a wormhole in a sycamore, Adam.”
He was shaking his head and glancing from side to side as if searching for someone or something. Finally, he said, “This is no wormhole, Sara. The damage is fresh. And judging by the wood that’s been displaced, the hole was probably made by a rifle bullet.”
“Why would anybody go deer hunting in town?”
When he placed both hands on the tree, trapping her, covering her, she began to feel surrounded even though he was only one man.
Adam raised his clear visor and leaned in to bring his lips closer to her ear.
Sara was so nervous, so unhinged by his nearness she almost missed hearing him say, “They weren’t shooting at whitetails, Sara. They were shooting at you.”
Dear Reader,
Not all friends make good mates. Not all mates make good friends. The person who can find both qualities in one person is truly blessed.
In this story, Sara was assuming unkind thoughts in the minds of others and she was often wrong, yet she based her reactions on those perceptions because she blamed herself for a tragedy. That’s easy to do when we experience the loss of someone we love. I believe one secret to reclaiming joy is in giving thanks for what we once had, even though it’s now lost, and embracing the future as the gift it truly is.
There are plenty of trials in daily life that we can’t cope with on our own. There is nothing God can’t handle once we decide to let go and trust Him.
You can reach me via email: val@valeriehansen.com.
Blessings,
Valerie Hansen
A man’s heart deviseth his way; but the Lord directeth his steps.
—Proverbs 16:9
Words cannot fully express my admiration for the amazing people who daily risk their lives to save and protect the rest of us. God has blessed them with a heart for service, a keen mind and the courage of David facing Goliath.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction
Dear Reader
Bible Verse
Dedication
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
Extract
About the Publisher
ONE
Flames were crackling, leaping and curling, their updraft sending sparks and embers whirling into the spring night from a burning duplex on the outskirts of Paradise, Missouri.
Fire Captain Adam Kane figured that the wooden structure was doomed. “Engine One on scene. Structure partially involved. Start a second alarm,” Adam radioed before whipping off his headset. He grabbed his handheld radio as he jumped out, slammed his red captain’s helmet down on his short dark hair and went to work.
“Clay and Walt, pull a two and a half. Peter and Rafe, the hydrant. Dave and Ty, to the roof. And get me more lights. We’ll set up to force ventilate from the front doors so we can search for victims.”
Besides the arrival of an ambulance, Adam noticed his own department’s rescue squad slowly pulling through the crowd of spectators. John Forrester was driving. And in the passenger seat was lithe, blonde Sara Southerland, the ER nurse whose unexpected presence had unnerved Adam when she’d arrived at the station that evening.
Well, he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on Sara’s problems. Other lives depended upon him and his crews. Once the ladder truck arrived he could raise the snorkel and position it to spray the rear of the wood-frame building, doubling their efforts without endangering anyone. Or the equipment.
Radio in hand, Adam continued to issue orders. “As soon as the fan’s in place, Walt, give me a quick figure-eight spray to cover the attack team. We won’t have long.”
Adam knew his firefighters were in full protective gear, yet he harbored more angst than usual. It wasn’t that he was ever complacent about this job. It was simply an uneasy feeling that he didn’t recall having experienced since ducking snipers and dodging IEDs, explosive devices buried in the ground overseas.
A quick glance proved that Sara was suited up in a bright yellow turnout, too, her sky blue eyes trained on the action. Was her mere presence enough to unsettle him? It never had been in the past, although considering the trauma she’d recently endured he figured he might have developed a heightened sensitivity.
Adam huffed in disgust. He was a decorated marine. A combat veteran. He’d guided men in battle and now commanded crews of paid firefighters and volunteers without hesitation. But one pretty volunteer EMT was enough to give him pause? That was not only disheartening, it was embarrassing.
Someone in the background began to cheer. Adam saw why and started forward to intercept his rescue team. The elderly woman supported between the men was unsteady but conscious as they handed her over to paramedics, then turned and headed for the second apartment.
Sara was gesturing and seemed to be trying to tell the medics something. When they ignored her, she turned toward Adam and waved her arms overhead. “There won’t be anybody in that other unit,” she shouted, approaching. “Vicki moved there right before we left for Texas.”
Of course. That was why Sara had appeared agitated. Vicki’s untimely death was still fresh in her mind and this had been her cousin’s new home. Those kinds of community ties always hit hard and in Sara’s case the effect would be even worse.
By the time she reached his side and stopped, he was already on the radio. “Be advised, that second unit is reported to be unoccupied.” He was about to order them to withdraw when he heard another cheer arising from the crowd.
His crew had reappeared and were supporting the thin, limp body of a man. Adam frowned. Had a thief or arsonist been trapped by his own crime? It sure looked that way. He took a step toward the firefighters to see if he recognized the victim.
Sara grabbed the sleeve of his turnout coat so firmly she was impossible to ignore. He whirled, frowning. Her face had lost most of its color. Her always-expressive eyes were wide and filling with tears. Her lips trembled.
Expecting her to say something, he was jolted when she released him with a cry and began to run toward the rescuers instead.
* * *
Sara covered her mouth, smothering a wail. Unless her mind was playing tricks on her, she knew this victim. She and Vicki had met and befriended twenty-something Rodrigo Salinas while in Texas on their recent, ill-fated mission trip. The trip that had taken Vicki’s life.
Gently cupping the unconscious man’s cheeks in both hands, she raised his face to get a better look. It was Rodrigo, all right. Unfortunately, the rescuers had reached him too late.
A firm grasp on her shoulders pulled her back as paramedics moved in and took over. Sara knew it was Adam. They’d been friends for so long that she could sense his presence without even looking.
“You know this guy?” Adam asked.
She nodded and met his dark gaze. “Yes. From Texas. He was part of the missionary project Vicki and I...”
“What’s he doing in Missouri?”
Good question, Sara thought. Moreover, why was he in Vicki’s empty apartment and why was it now on fire? What in the world could he have been up to?
“Good job, guys,” Adam told his men. “Was that the last victim?”
“Yeah. He almost made it to the front door before the smoke got him.” One man had removed his air mask and was coughing. A blackened smudge traced its outline on the sides of his face. “Looks like Miss Bessie was the only one to make it out alive.”
Bessie Alt? Of course! Sara took a sharp breath and coughed as a result. Had she been so upset by the involvement of Vicki’s apartment and the discovery of an unexpected victim that she’d missed keying in on such a vital detail? That was inexcusable for a firefighter, even a part-time volunteer like herself.
One glance at Adam told her he was clueless. His words confirmed it. “We’ll take care of this, Sara. Go back to the rescue squad and get some O2 to clear your lungs before you end up sick.”
“No. Listen to me,” she shouted over the surrounding noise. “I know Bessie Alt’s medical history. She has a lot of breathing problems.”
“Okay.”
“Oxygen.” She saw Adam tense when she pointed toward the duplex with her whole arm. “There must be tanks of compressed oxygen stored in there. H models, I imagine. The big ones.”
“Everybody back!” Triggering emergency evacuation protocol with continuous high-low siren blasts he shouted, “Clear the area. It’s gonna blow!”
Sara’s mind was racing ahead. The instant she was certain Adam got the picture she turned on her heel and jogged through the police lines toward the ambulance.
“The fire department’s bailing, Vince,” she told the closest paramedic. “You need to load up and get out of here.”
The shake of his head and slow laying aside of equipment confirmed the original suspicion that it was too late for poor Rodrigo. Sara gently touched Vince’s arm. “At least you tried.”
“Yeah. We got to him too late.”
“I’m sorry.” She sought to comfort him—and herself. “I guess it was his time to go.”
He dipped dark brows and scowled at her. “That why you let your cousin drown, Sara? Did you figure her time was up, too?”
As unfair as his accusation was, Sara had heard whispers far worse since returning to Paradise. And she’d learned the hard way that rebuttal was futile.
She turned from him and started away, continuing until she had put a large sycamore trunk between her and the burning building. As she peered past the tree she could see engines backing up, repositioning. Only the aerial with the snorkel nozzle stayed where it was, presumably because it could shoot water from a long way off and still be effective.
Adam remained closer to the blaze than anyone else, shouting directions and gesturing. Her heart swelled with pride as she watched him. So brave. So capable. And so blooming hardheaded. What did he think he was doing? Didn’t he have a lick of sense? Just because he’d survived roadside bombs as a marine, that didn’t mean he was bulletproof.
She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted at him. “Adam!”
He didn’t respond. Considering the noise of the motors, pumps, sirens and yelling, plus the hiss and roar of the fire itself, chances were good he hadn’t heard a word.
Every nerve in Sara’s body was firing and misfiring. Her wobbly knees might have dropped her on the spot if she hadn’t leaned against the stout tree. If only Adam would give ground!
What was the matter with him? Wanting to do good was one thing. Unnecessary risks were another. She ought to know. Not fighting harder to keep her cousin from behaving recklessly during the Texas flood had been her worst decision ever—one she would pay for the rest of her life.
Well, once was enough. If Adam wouldn’t back off on his own she was going to drag him to safety, just the way she should have dragged Vicki.
Bolting from cover, Sara heard a distant pop and felt tiny, bothersome bits of tree bark raining down on her head. She absently swatted them from her hair. Her one and only mission right now was getting to her friend and convincing him to flee.
Screaming “Adam!” she dodged equipment and jumped fat, wet fire hoses that coiled on the muddy ground like seeping, writhing snakes. “Adaaaaam!”
He whirled. Sara crashed into him. “You have to leave. Fall back.”
He grabbed her upper arms through the heavy canvas-like turnout coat she wore. “What do you think you’re doing? Get out of here!”
“I’m saving your life!” Hearing herself screeching she decided he wasn’t going to heed her warning unless she made it more specific. “The oxy tanks. If they fall and the valves break off they’ll turn into rockets.”
“With a fireball on the other end. Yeah, I know.” Taking one last look he pushed her ahead of him in a joint dash for cover.
Sara pointed. “That tree. Come on.”
Rounding it, she flattened her back against the trunk. Adam joined her. Her heart was already pounding from the scare he’d given her. Now, it took off at a gallop. This was one of those extraordinary moments when she wasn’t sure whether to weep or laugh. His handsome face was dotted with ash, smudged with smoke and his warm brown eyes were reddened. Nevertheless, the way he was staring at her was more than disconcerting.
His focus left her face to concentrate on a spot on the tree trunk directly above her head. When he removed one of his heavy gloves and touched the bark, more powdery bits and slivers rained down.
Sara brushed them away. “Stop that. You’re making a worse mess than the first time I hid here.”
His eyes were wide beneath the brim and clear faceplate of his helmet. “What first time? When did you notice this damage?”
“What damage? What are you talking about?”
Grasping her shoulders he turned her in place, still keeping within the shelter of the broad trunk. “This. See the hole?”
“We have worse things to worry about than a wormhole in a sycamore, Adam.”
He was shaking his head and glancing from side to side as if searching for someone or something. Finally, he said, “This is no wormhole, Sara. The damage is fresh. And judging by the wood that’s been displaced, the hole was probably made by a rifle bullet.”
“Why would anybody go deer hunting in town?”
When he placed both hands on the tree, trapping her, covering her, she began to feel surrounded even though he was only one man.
Adam raised his clear visor and leaned in to bring his lips closer to her ear.
Sara was so nervous, so unhinged by his nearness, she almost missed hearing him say, “They weren’t shooting at whitetails, Sara. They were shooting at you.”
TWO
Adam was ready to catch her if his frankness made her faint. It impressed him when she stayed firmly on her feet.
“What? What gives you that idea?”
“Logic. If somebody had had it in for police or fire they’d have aimed at our trucks and cars. You were standing behind this tree and nobody else was close by. Am I right?”
The fact that she simply nodded instead of arguing with him was telling. Hopefully, his sensible reasoning was getting through to her.
Her lips parted slightly and her fair complexion paled even more than usual, yet she was adamant. “Wait a second. I know what a rifle shot sounds like, the way it echoes and kind of whines. I did not hear anything like that.”
“Then maybe the bullet was from a pistol. I don’t know. I’ll report it so the cops can dig it out for evidence.”
As he spoke, Adam continued to scan their surroundings. His crews and engines were out of danger from the anticipated explosion. The telescoping snorkel was still pumping water on the rear of the building to cool it and protect nearby structures. There remained only one serious concern not taken care of. Sara Southerland. And a sniper.
Adam knew he could continue to physically block her if he had to but that left his own back exposed. Clearly, they needed better cover.
“We’ll make a run for Engine One and hunker down behind it. You go first,” Adam ordered.
“I’m not going anywhere without you,” she said hoarsely.
That was all it took to push him to the edge of his patience. “Somebody took a shot at you. You can’t stay here.”
“Then neither should you.”
“I said I was coming.” Adam knew he was shouting at her but it was for her own good. He stepped slightly to the side and gave her a push. “Move!”
This time there was no doubt he heard it. The bang. The whine. The thunk when the projectile imbedded in the sycamore mere inches from his head.
Instinct took over. Adam threw Sara to the ground behind a cluster of low-growing bushes, pinning her beneath him and ignoring her indignant sputtering. This was combat. In his mind he was back in the desert, under fire. Unprotected. Vulnerable. And unarmed.
Reaching for his radio he shouted, “Shots fired! Take cover!”
Seconds later his radio crackled a response in his earbud. “I’ve alerted the sheriff,” his dispatcher said. “That’s not your only problem, Captain. Miz Alt has a prescription for two H tanks like you thought. One was refilled and returned a few days ago.”
“Copy.”
Adam shifted, raising himself slightly to give Sara relief. She immediately tried to wiggle away but he stopped her. “No. Stay put.”
“I thought we were making a run for it.”
“Not now that we know the shooter is still active. There’s no way to get to the truck without showing ourselves. We’ll have to keep our heads down until the cops catch him or scare him off.”
Adam knew they’d also need to wait until something happened inside the burning building. Either the tanks would vent or explode or act like horizontal rockets and take out walls. Maybe they’d do all of the above, depending on when the fire reached them and how they were supported inside Bessie’s apartment. It was too much to hope they’d fall gently and withstand the spreading flames.
“Initial explosive hazard confirmed,” Adam broadcast on an open channel. “All units hold your positions. Nobody goes near this structure again until I give the all clear.”
Sara nudged him. “I was right?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, you were. As soon as...”
A muted crash was followed milliseconds later by a whoosh and sounds of cracking and shattering. A flaming, rolling, expanding ball of gas filled the duplex to bursting and sent splintered windows and walls outward while the roof rose, fell and disappeared.
Adam ducked instinctively. So did Sara. He covered her as best he could and stayed hunched over her until smoldering pieces of the destroyed building stopped falling around them.
A cloud of acrid black and gray smoke boiled from the site of the explosion, filling the atmosphere and stealing breathable air. It rolled over the scene like a malevolent entity that was bent on hiding the carnage and claiming more victims.
Adam’s ears were ringing. “Don’t inhale deeply,” he cautioned Sara. “Fumes from burning synthetics can kill you.”
“Or you!” she replied, coughing and choking.
“I’ll be okay. There’s plenty of O2 on the engines. Wait a minute more, then keep low while you head for the squad. This smoke will hide you. Get in with Forrester. Stay there and keep your head down, just in case.”